bickando

Albert de Falstaff stood among the smoldering ruins of the throne room, watching silently as the final remnants of the meteorite were plucked from the ashen remains of vibrant tapestries. He watched the frantic efforts of the servants, the panic amongst the present nobility. He remembered how the Paladins had summoned that meteor, how from it had crawled the girl he had once so admired, the girl he knew to be dead. He had watched the bronze-masked Lich insult him, his Empire, and her memory from the safety of the other side of the burning crater that had been the throne. The aging Count of Leuven began penning missives, calling favors; the Paladins would pay.

DISASTER IN PROVIDENCE SPECIAL EDITION OF THE LEUVEN TIMES ZANN CULTIST ATTACK ON THE AUGUSTINE PALACE A servant's frantic rendition of the chaos. It was a quiet night in Providence when the group descended; dark beings dressed in bronze and crimson came first in twos, then as many to the courtyard of the heart of the Empire - the Augustine Palace. The servants took them for more of the recently-arrived Elven diaspora that had become so enamored with Imperial culture; their purpose, however, was far, far more nefarious. These people, whom the heroic Orenian defenders would later find out call themselves the 'Paladins of Zann', were no lovers of life and light - but instead evildoers and necromancers hell-bent on destroying Oren. As the nobility of the Empire returned to their chambers, they were awoken by deafening noise - and the shaking of the Palace to its very foundations. The cultists had called down upon the Empire a meteor half the size of the Bastille, and indeed that meteor glanced off that mighty protective structure as it screeched towards the throne room, obliterating it truly and fully. It was by pure miracle of chance that the meteor did not strike the bedchambers of the Emperor himself; and it was by pure malice that it was called down originally. From its rubble, the long-deceased Princess Juliette emerged, a shambling mess of flesh and bone; but a reflection of her prior self before disappearing from the Empire so many years ago. The cultists took the necrotically-revived princess and fled the city, leaving a single one of their evil flock to take the fall - an elf captured by Major Darkwood in the chaos. Those present as witness to the chaos; Major Darkwood, whose heroism led to the capture of one of the Zannic cultists; George Kovachev, whom assessed the damages; Lord Leuven, leader of the emergency repair efforts; HIH Wilhelmina Beatrix, the Duchess of Helena HIH Anne Caroline HIH Henrietta Maria, the Countess of Aldersberg LET THERE BE NO MISTAKE; Those that profess themselves the Paladins of Zann have this day, 21st of Sigismund's End, 1805, attempted to assassinate HIM Joseph II, the members of the House of Novellen and the assorted nobility and bureaucratic class of the Empire, and action must be taken across the land against this scourge of Man. Their ringleaders, a bronze-masked, lich-like being, and a red-haired Wood Elf male wearing bronze and a white shawl. Among the most defining traits of the criminals, a proclivity towards incredibly dated bronze chestpieces and blood-red cloth. The esteemed leaders of our nation are called to action to make the perpetrators answer for their crimes. His Imperial Excellency, the Archchancellor @Nectorist His Imperial Excellency, the Vice Chancellor @Da_Emperors His Excellency, Chief of War @Cobbler His Excellency, the Director of the Secret Service @Old Man Boiendl

RP Name: Albert de Falstaff MC Name: edelos Voted: Yes :)

Albert de Falstaff, busy doing other work for the empire, is handed a sheet by his servant, Cod. "A papah fer m'lahd te sign," the challenged teen says. "Yer daughtah Cosette signed et." Albert signs, not reading it, assuming it's an order for dresses or some catering order in the capital that required his approval. TRH Albert de Falstaff, the Count of Leuven

nvm shop is closed :( ive decided to make money by selling my soul to the tech team

guys please stop +1'ing me and actually buy my product

The Funeral of Theodora Angelica de Falstaff née Helvets The news came at night, messenger pigeons released to the estates of the Orenian nobility bearing a sun stamped upon blue ink. It is with heavy heart that the House de Falstaff announces the passing of TRH Theodora Angelica, the Countess of Leuven, on the 20th of Sigismund's End, 1803, due to complications in her fifth surgery following the tragic events of the Karosgrad Riot. Whilst held captive by the ghosts of her past in life, there is no fear that they shall haunt her in death, for she lived as a pious, God-fearing woman, much beloved by her family and her friends. The late Countess shall surely make her way into the high circles of the Seven Skies for her deeds. Her funeral, a private event, was limited to only her immediate relatives. Indeed, the only ones to see her casket lowered into a grave beside a tall yellow poplar were the Count, their children, and the presiding priest, whom shall remain unnamed to preserve the sanctity of such ritual from the rumormongering and infighting of the Church of the Canon. God Alone knows why she has ascended so early; God Alone knows why she has been made to leave her children so young. Her family cries tears both of pain and of joy, knowing her pain must surely be over in the realms above. May She Rest Well -+- THEODORA ANGELICA ASHFORD DE FALSTAFF NÉE HELVETS 1769 - 1803

1 mina = i +1 one of ur posts hmu bickando#5883

if i bid on the martyr skin can i have it in a display case saying it's azorella's bloody dress?

SUNSET AT WHITCOMBE The sun had crossed its high mark long before the Helvetii carriage made it to Whitcombe, home of the House de Falstaff. Here reigned Albert Arthur of Leuven over fields of poppies and roses, and a craggy coastline of little sand but many rocks. Indeed, few would call such a structure a manse comparable to that of the Augustine or of Trissingham, but fewer still would call it unworthy of even a Count. It was a lordly structure by all meaning of the words, but more perfectly suitable to a lord that might wish a quiet retirement in a corner of the Empire than the urbane vassals of the capital, and far fewer found personal invites to the stately locale than the palace as well. But here was the young inheritor of the Rocheforts, Robert Foltest, nonetheless - in his fingers the half-crumpled invitation sealed with blue wax marked with a sun, and indeed before him stood its sender. In recent years the Lord Leuven had grown to look tired indeed, with slight greying to the once pitch-black hair framing a gaunt, weather-worn face. "My lord," greeted the young Helvets, whom had steadily been growing into an inerasable reminder of his grandfather, for he had grown pale and thin, and sported the blonde hair and blue eyes that were so prevalent in his progenitor. Here, in another time, Albert might have smiled - for Richard Victor had been his mentor, his true father, in his Kaedreni youth. Now, however, he was a reminder of the darkness in the souls of all men, for it was Richard Victor too that had attacked Albert's wife, the old man's own daughter. The nervous Helvetii was greeted instead by a stoic Falstaff. The interior of Whitcombe was vibrant - for its walls were decorated lavishly with paintings and pigments, marbled linings and relics - indeed so lavishly that the entry hallway was covered floor to ceiling in grand paintings of Leuven and Owynsburg - a world that Robert, young as he was, had never known, and Albert himself having never seen the former, for its grand demeanor was destroyed with most of the House de Falstaff in the closing days of that continent's great war. In the old man's study, filled with books and yet more relics, most jewels but some more exotic - one appearing to be a tiny old elf reading a tiny book in a birdcage - but most visible the stack of work that had come to occupy his desk constantly of late. "Young man," begins Albert, who takes his seat behind the desk. "I am told you've been found with wisdom beyond your years. Tell me, then, that you understand our problems?" "...I do," replied Robert, for beyond the struggles of the Church, or perhaps because of them, the greatest issue of late in the Imperial nobility had been that of the attempted murder. "Then you understand that we must come to an arrangement." "...I do." -+- ACCORD BETWEEN THE HOUSE FALSTAFF OF LEUVEN AND THE HOUSE HELVETS OF ROCHEFORT, 1803 That, by virtue of the young Robert Foltest's earnest regret over the incident, Albert Arthur finds him wholly unaware of its conception; and, therefore, that to punish his own nephew for such egregious sins as were attempted by the late Lord Rochefort would be little becoming of their shared stature; and that, given this, the following agreements shall be struck; The House Helvets of Rochefort shall pay the cost of treatment required by TRH, the Countess of Leuven; The House Helvets of Rochefort shall not further cause harm either physical or emotional to TRH, the Countess of Leuven; The House Falstaff of Leuven may continue to query the intentions of one Adrian Othodoric Helvets, and may sponsor arguments against him but not his family; The House Falstaff of Leuven shall stop inquiries into the continued standing of the House Helvets of Rochefort, both for the prestige of both families and the mental health of TRH, the Countess of Leuven, Theodora Angelica of Rochefort; That the House Falstaff of Leuven recognizes the issue resolved with the death of Richard Victor Helvets; The House Falstaff of Leuven shall not raise further issue upon the subject otherwise, and instead seek to help mend relations between TRH, the Countess of Leuven and her kin. Let this quarrel be no more. Undersigned, Albert Arthur of the House de Falstaff, IG Robert Foltest of the House of Helvets

Albert took the news poorly, even as he became ever more reclusive - for his friends continued to die of age or of illness, a reminder of his own approaching mortality. As soon as would be proper, he visits the Cathalon Estate to offer his condolences to the family.

Albert de Falstaff feels incredibly slighted by how low on the comital list his name appears, and determines that he shan't attend. He passes the invitation off to his wife and children, though. @froeggy

The Plea Agreement is duly confirmed by the presiding justice, and the case closed.

THE CENTRAL CIRCUIT COURT In accordance with the Legal Procedure Act of 1772, the Rt. Hon. Albert Arthur de Falstaff, Justice of the Central Circuit Court, does duly assign himself to these proceedings. Accordingly, the assigned Justice shall schedule a preliminary hearing with the Plaintiff and the Defendant in order to review the merits of the case and decide if the matter shall be allowed to proceed to trial. The following parties are to contact Justice Galbraith to arrange a suitable date to present themselves before the Court: - The Plaintiff Henrik Larson @KamikazeReaper on behalf of the Crown. - The Defendant Robert James Hartcold @TJBMinecraft or his representative. The following parties are required to perform the following actions for the sake of procedure: - The Defendant is obliged to present to the Court a Replying Affidavit at least one saint day before the time of the trial, outlining their responses to the alleged crimes. - Both parties are to exchange their Books of Evidence and submit them to the Court at least one saint day before the trial is to occur. Signed, The Rt. Hon. Justice of the Central Circuit Albert A. de Falstaff, the Count Leuven [bickando#5883]

Kristoff Stafyr, first Viscount of Grauspin, sits in the Seven Skies across from his eternally crazy and equally deceased wife, Camilla Stafyr*. "This is your fault, somehow," he sighs. @devvy

"That's not how it works," says Kristoff Stafyr, the man that brought the family to Haense, in the Seven Skies. "Someone tell this chump that's not how it works."

Albert de Falstaff smiles the sun’s smile and recommends his wife’s work to all three of his friends.

@Ark me

bro lotc isnt toxic idk what ur talking abt..

AFAITER DES ESPUSAILLES FALSTAFF AILLURS HELVETS Millier Setcent Noentissan Ceis An The eldest Houses of the Empire file into the Basilica for the Falstaff-Helvets wedding, 1791 In the Basilica of the Final Revelation did the Kaedreni upper echelons meet in full outside of Owynsburg for the first time in a decade or more; for, as with all couplings of the grand and ancient families of the realm, the greatest religious authority was the only true choice afforded. With the gracious officiation of the High Pontiff, there could be no doubt as to its legitimacy, nor to the favor yet awarded to the names within. The first carriage to arrive was that of the House de Falstaff; a solemn gray thing that could be mistaken for a covered prison wagon, were it not for the pastel-yellow sun upon a blue sky that denoted its owner to be that family so fallen from its midday heights a century ago. From it, a sullen, pale man of good build emerged wearing a simple suit of black and white, along with an aged matron of brown hair and muted dress, and a blonde woman perhaps in her mid-thirties. Little remained of the once-great fortunes of the lords of Leuven; there was none of the great fanfare of the Conradine era, nor even the air of solemn reminder that might have met their arrival when Armande headed the house – no, those days had long past, and in their place was the grim desolation of a family firmly reminded of its last century of misfortune, for just as many in the Empire had heard of the cultured noblesse of Leuven’s vineyards, so too did many know that the remnants of that family’s blood lay only in two brothers, one so sickly that he’d not been seen in a decade. Where once were colorful buildings in a field of windmills and festivals, now stood only a dark manor in a darker swamplands – in every way, a shadow of its former self. The second to arrive is the procession of the Palatinate, a series of carriages carrying the Prince-Archbishop of Albarosa and the Bishop of Ves at its fore in vessels covered in bright red and gold liveries, but more importantly His Holiness, James II himself, in the next, a pure white carriage guarded by knights of the Order of All-Saints. Perhaps this was to be considered a diplomatic coup by the house-in-decline, for an officiation by the High Pontiff was neither easy to arrange nor to fund, but more likely it was a series of maneuvers meant to remind the Kaedreni, and, more loosely, the greater Orenian whole, that Kaedrin and Oren are forever bound, and His Holiness was the only party neutral enough in the worldly turmoil of noble intrigue to bind two such families. The third set of arrivals was that of the House of Helvets, resplendent in its wealth and replete with the furnishings afforded by such; for, whilst the House had existed for nearly as long as the Empire itself, it had of late found no lack of excuses to flaunt the wealth associated with its great ascendance in Ves. A dozen carriages carried two dozen retainers and hangers-on, merrymakers and distant relatives, lordlings and laudables, and for a moment it seemed to be that the entire Kaedreni court had been invited to the affair on the Helvets’ tab. From the central vehicle of the great caravan, a carriage covered in gilded roses, rose the Count Rochefort and his son Adrian and his son’s wife Charlotte, each covered in jewels and rich velvet, and the great Count’s daughter, Theodora, who was to be wed, in a long, beautiful gown of white and silver. Her own visage was not so pleasantly excited as those of her entourage – for the man to which she would shortly be wed was not her choice, but instead by the vast insistence of the rest of the realm. Her family’s retainers, the Pruvia-Albarosas and MacDrochs and Robicheaus, arrived in much greater spirits than she, each in carriages covered in the nepotistic wealth-sharing of the Kaedreni elite that had been so attacked by the Crownlander nobility, but so lauded within that Commonwealth. Finally, a select few of the local nobility had also been invited to attend the wedding – perhaps simply as proof that the wedding was indeed occurring, and Albert fulfilling his obligations to the Crown and to the county he had inherited. The Duke of Crestfall and his household arrived in subdued style, for there was in the minds of the elite no purpose to the scions of the realm acting in any other way. With him, the Duke of Cathalon, longtime friends of the House de Falstaff, and with them Leopold FitzPeter and his family – and, being the last invitees to arrive, the wedding began promptly after they were seated (for to allow the Crownlander Houses to mingle with the Kaedreni was, as all knew, generally a disaster waiting to happen). Of course, the ceremony itself was relatively unimportant to the esteemed guests of the wedding – nor were the feelings of the parties involved. Luckily so, they might have thought, for the bride was half a foot shorter than the groom, and both reeked thoroughly of the depression that came with great societal expectations. They would do their duties to their bloodlines as surely as the sky was blue, but, at least at this moment, there was little love to be seen – and how could there be, when this was the first time the two had met? The High Pontiff’s voice was clear and uninterrupted, and quickly the event itself came near its close. With a cordial smile, filled to the brim with false enthusiasm, Albert recited his vows, and with a melancholic attempt at a simper, Theodora recited hers. The two sealed the ceremony with a brief kiss before the crowd applauded with due emotion, cheers and cries from the Helvetii and Kaedreni otherwise at the new security of their prodigal daughter, light applause from the Leuvians and Crownlanders due to the future security of the County of Leuven. At the banquet held afterwards, modest by both Kaedreni and Crownlander standards but with enough food for each to eat their fill, there were congratulations and gifts as usual from and to the assembled parties, a show of a donation to the Church through the Prince-Archbishopric of Albarosa, and the couple arm-in-arm answered the varying and pointless questions offered by their guests. All in all, a match made without a hitch.

Wedding white – 10k

EDELOS BIDS: Ruby Red – 10k mina Farming Halfling – 5k mina Women’s Work Suit – 15k mina Wedding White – 5k mina discord: bickando#5883

Lavender 17.5k bickando#5883

Lavender 12k bickando#5883